


Dear Diary

by The_Lamp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, M/M, eren has a cat named smiley oh the irony, that one zombie apocolipse au that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lamp/pseuds/The_Lamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger is a 17 -18 year old highschooler who, after taking a nap, realized that the world has gone to shit in less than 5 hours. Now he's on a mission to find his way to his mother.<br/>But that doesn't come without a price to pay. Seeing loved ones die, and realizing that you're the one that has to kill them, it's a nightmare. Will Eren Jaeger survive this post-apocalyptic world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Diary

Between you or me, who is more likely to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland? The answer is simple; neither of us. Because in the end, we would both die. Either by suicide or by the end of our journey, our adventure. We would go crazy, we would get bitten, and then we’re all going to die.  
Eventually, that is. Death is inevitable, even if you don’t want it to be. Just accept it, that’s all you can do. Of course, you also need hope to live this way, it’s the only way. Even if you don’t have hope left, live, just live because you never know when the gods might strike you down to purgatory. Make life the better and instead confide in the ones around you, it’s the only way to live. To live, is to not die, and to not die, is by fighting, you can’t live if you can’t fight; so fight for all’ve you got.  
That’s why, in this very journal, I’ll be writing what will happen on this post-apocalyptic journey that will submerge me in the inevitable hardships that an almost 18 year old should go on. In the end, age doesn’t really matter though, whether you are old or young or middle aged. We all got a story, and mine starts now.  
It’s time to go back, go back where everything turned to shit. Where everything wasn’t how things were supposed to be, I might have to revise some parts since my memory is kind of fuzzy; but you’ll get the picture.

 

After all that studying, I still get a bad grade. I pulled three all-nighters, and skipped much needed meals. Yet, I still failed. The schooling system where it tells you that your grades are more important than your mental well-being. That’s beside the point, the point is, is how am I going to explain my grade to mom? She’ll freak! Or, at least that’s what I think, I don’t know, I really don’t want to come towards the harsh reality that was home life.  
I try and be a good son to her, she had to go through a lot. Dad dying in a tragic accident, and then her sister, my aunt, dying right after. She’s left alone with me, her troublesome son that’s better off working at a fast food chain restaurant for the continuity of his life. I kick at the ground, the smell of baked bread alerts me that I’m half way home, and the wind blowing my hair left and right also tells me that a storm is about to brew. I pay no heed and instead focus on the ground and trying not to step on a crack, for fear of breaking my mother’s back.  
I jump over a crack and dart across the street when I made sure no car was on their way, I was only a block and a half left away from my home. I took a quick detour over a fence and quickly ran across a person’s lawn and jumped over their fence also. If there were one thing I was good at, it would be climbing objects, three years in track and an entire childhood of tree climbing does that to a person.  
I chuckled a little as I climb through an open window on a balcony. No worries, it was my quaint little abode called a two bedroom apartment with one bathroom. It looked small, but it was big enough for my family. My Mom and I weren’t exactly rich per se, but we made our livings. I opened our patio door and tip toed around a sleeping tom named Smiley. He was a speckled brown and gray Burmese short haired cat that loved to lounge around all over the place that seems the most (unavoidable) convenient areas. He's secretly plotting a way to get a hold of the world to rule; that's why he occasionally pees all over my clean clothes.  
He pays me no attention and goes right back to sleeping after batting at my Achilles heel. I love Smiley. I tiptoe to our kitchen and scavenged around in the fridge, I'm going to need to do some shopping later because all we have in the fridge are a bunch of bottles of water and left over food with a half galleon of milk that's about to expire. I pour myself a glass, sniff it, and then take a sip while I scavenge our cupboards. Cookies, I found cookies. I rip open the container of Chip's Ahoy and grab a paper plate to put my pile of cookies on, and then I grab a fork from our dish rack. I dart back to my living room and turn on the TV. The news was on.  
I half paid attention to the TV and instead focused on my dunking session. Drown these cookies, make them suffer, I can just imagine them screaming, yelling, gargling because of the torture I'm putting their chocolate chip selves in. I smirk inside, this is too good. I eat my cookies in delight. I heard a squelch from my left, Smiley had jumped on the couch and laid down behind my head. I distinctively reached behind my head to scratch at an area on the Burmese that I could reach.  
I was about to reach for another cookie when I realized that I had no more, I drank the left over of my milk and silently got up to wash my glass and fork and throw away my paper plate. I laid down on my couch closed my eyes after I turned down the TV.  
I hadn't had a good nights rest for a while, too many bad dreams. Hopefully it'll change this time...  
_________________________  
Screams could be heard, fire could be smelt, gun shots rang in the distance, and some too close for comfort. What were these things? I thought these were just fiction!? Sci-fi even, the sickening sound of gargled, throat-ripping swallows and groans alerted me that I needed to dart away from an oncoming victim. Victim of what? I'm not sure, I don't even think the government even knows. Skittering heels, not yet rotting flesh but the distinct smell of burnt skin and acidic body fluids have me on my feet and scaling buildings, it's better then getting in a skittering with these inhuman things.  
The undead, zombies? No, zombies are fakes, these things are the real deal; don't encounter them, don't get bit, don't get scratched, don't not kill a friend or a loved one if they get hurt by one of these- these... Walkers, clickers, undead fellows that have now plagued our community. I'm not even sure if it goes further north, or even west, but it's best to stay alive. It's worse than the black plague, because this time, there is no cure.  
This is reality now, no more Sponge Bob Square Pants, no more Netflix, or early morning special broadcast games of having a winning chance for 1 million dollars on the radio station. I can't listen to my Studio Killers anymore. It's all over, I was going to graduate this year, I may have sucked at math, but at least I would have passed with a high C.  
All I wanted was to take a nap, not to have my cat scratch my face awake because there was something scratching and banging on my door at 7 o'clock at night. I had to look through the peep hole only to see something with an unhinged jaw desperately clawing at the wood of my door, I seen more staggering things, too many, at my door. That thing was blocking the way for the other undead beings. I had cursed and quickly emptied my school bag to use as a duffle. I had grabbed some necessary things, like a canteen, I filled it with water, I had also grabbed some extra water bottles. My dad has left some survival gear so I went to pick up some things. There was this thing called a Mess kit that was roughly 3 lbs and useful as fuck. Silverware, two cans of beans from the cupboards. I grabbed a belt and my hunting knife. I attached it to the belt before I clasped the belt shut.  
An extra set of clothes in the bag with a sweat shirt and wool socks, a fire starter kit and a tiny sewing kit that I put together my self. I also have a book on survival. I put that in there. It sounds pretty heavy, I know. But it's actually really light. I had also packed a bar of soap and an extra bar of soap that was still in it's respectful case because, even if this is the start of the apocalypse, I'm not an animal.  
By the time I get back to the living room I could see the dent marks on the wooden door that was the barrier to the world outside, I sigh as I spot my cat hissing at the door where the mangled groans are seething from. I grab Smiley, he clings to my backpack, and then we make it to my patio door. I slide it open, and then closed. Nothing in sight; that's good. I grab the reeling and as silent as possible I jump down the second story fall. Which isn't that far down. I stumble a bit because of the fat cat on my back, but that's a given; I don't want him stuck in there and possibly dying, he's been with me for a long time, since he was a kitten. It wouldn't be fair of me to just leave my brother in there to die, he's sticking with me.  
He jumps down and darts away, Smiley may even be called a Blood Hound by how good his nose is. He'll lead me to safety, it's getting dark though, so we better hurry. When I lose sight of him, all it takes was a quiet mewl and I find my way to the speckled Burmese turning a corner and hiding behind a garbage can. I go there quickly.  
It's freaky at how well I adapted to this way of moving around, I'm calm sure, but I also want to know if mom is okay. Is she even alive? I don't think we'll be able to meet up any time soon, not with these circumstances. It's a pain, but it's to be expected of this world now.  
Why am I accepting all of this from the unhinged neighbor of mine? It's hell on earth at the moment and I don't even know how long this will last. I do know, though, is that I need to head north, it's less populated and when winter comes, it'll become a safe haven. It'll be chilly but it'll stop most of their movements. I hope.  
I'm on top of a four story building now, looking at the ruined city before me, Trost is no more. Shiganshina is where I should be heading now.  
“Smiley,” He meows at me, “You were right, I shouldn't have wished for the zombie apocalypse.” I knelt down to scratch behind his ear. “We'll survive, though. We have to. I have to meet up with Mom, it's vital.” I watch him go, I know he'll be okay, he's just getting the nutrients that he needs after all. Some mice is what he eats after all, who am I to stop him?  
I sit down on the ledge and let my legs dangle in the air. I sigh, “This is the new life that I have to live, huh?” I kick the building, “Thanks a lot you unholy deity for bestowing me this brand new life style. I'll be sure to kick your ass when I'm dead!?” I had yelled to the world. Moans drifted to my ears.  
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you, shut it.” I kick my leg back and forth. Smiley better be coming back, it's almost time for bed. I roll over and unclasp my backpack to take out my sweatshirt. There's no opening to this rooftop, the only way is to scale the building or if you jump from one rooftop to another. I'm safe for now, but I would have to start moving again tomorrow, but right now, drinking a sip from my canteen will do. I use my backpack as a pillow and then I cross my arms to preserve my heat. It get's chilly out here. I close my eyes and hope for a better day tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will probably be slow, but I'll try my hardest to comply with all your wishes and update as much as possible, and as soon as possible. I just love Eren, and I especially love zombie aus, except no one as really met my expectations. I know I'm not the best writer, but hopefully I get better throughout the story.


End file.
